


A Wish...

by DarkestDarkness



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-27 09:44:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17159720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkestDarkness/pseuds/DarkestDarkness
Summary: A collection of holiday themed short-stories.





	1. Nero tol Scaeva

**Author's Note:**

> I'm adding tags as we go. This will feature a different character for every chapter - most of which will be considered a rather unconventional choice compared to the majority of what we see in the FFXIV tag. I hope i can finish this in time for the holidays, but knowing myself it may be tricky.... Enjoy my bad sense of humor and inability to write romance! (ノ▽〃)

Only by the third time the door bell rang you made your way over to the front door, eyelids still heavy with sleep and movements sluggish. Any knowledge about time scattered before your feet and out of reach as you stumbled over a misplaced twinkle box and barely caught yourself at the door, swinging it open wildly in the process.

“Nero...?”

The red winter coat was a nice touch you had to admit, but the tension in your neck now spread over your skull and to your forehead, blooming into a minor migraine upon seeing your own reflection staring back at you from a pair of silver-rimmed sunglasses.

“Lord van Baelsar gave me leave,” he proclaimed without any further context, leaning against your door frame and flashing you one of his trademark smiles.

“Just like that?” you raised an eyebrow and folded your arms in front of you. It could have fooled you.

Nero never left work unfinished, especially not the kind which kept him locked inside his man cave inside Castrum Meridianum even in the thick of the holidays, while you were left alone at home.

If there was one thing people would have to pry from his cold, dead hands, it was his passion for meddling with machines.

That, and maybe these godforsaken sun glasses.

Your stare persisted, the impatient tap of your right foot the missing detail to finally make his grin falter and facade crumble. He sighed.

“He said if he has to see me wallowing in self-pity for another seven hours, he will throw me out personally.”

“Slacking at work now, are we?” you mused with a smile of your own pulling at the corners of your lips. He had missed you.

How  _cute._

Perhaps determined to distract from the endearing yet embarassing implication hanging over his head, Nero wrapped his arms around you. You reveled in the warmth of his sudden embrace, the rise of his chest against yours, and the heat of his breath against your forehead. With a gentle hold on your chin and a nudge up, he bent forward for his lips to meet yours.

“Eh--” you stopped him with a finger on his mouth but a few ilms apart, before reaching for the pair of sunglasses on his nose. The attempt was quickly cut short by him bending back up to his full height again.

“The glasses stay.”

“If the glasses stay, you  _leave_.”

A moment of long and heavy silence followed, the second test of determination within the hour. And with the second defeated exhale to follow, he watched you grabbing a hold of his prized pair of Mogcci brand glasses.

“You drive a hard bargain, my dear....”

Who knew a grown man could pout like that. 


	2. Solus zos Galvus

“There is but _one_ more minor thing.”

Filled to the brim with tasks big and small, some important and others so trivial it left you wondering if this was even still covered by your contract, this day had turned out to be more tedious than anticipated. You were _dying_ for your shift to end, and so you just couldn't stop the defeated sigh which followed Solus' chipper announcement.

The sheepish smile plastered all across his face came as little surprise as you turned around to watch him raise a hand in a theatrical motion. Sometimes you couldn't help but wonder how he ended up Emperor instead of following a career in the arts.

Your eyes followed the fluid motion, until he stopped, smile ever present and finger pointing to something above.

“Perhaps this may come as a surprise, but I do love indulging in cultural exchanges on occasion,” he continued, unperturbed by any change of expression in your face as your gaze glued itself to the green twig dangling innocently right above his head.

“This,” he continued with a snap of his fingers and drawing your attention back down at him, “is a Thavnairian Mistletoe.”

A dusting of artificial snow covered the sprig of green, glittering with a joy which the thaumaturge who had been forced to weave this spell for aesthetics' sake certainly hadn't shared – but such were his Radiance's wishes.

“According to a tradition in Radz-ad-Han,” he drawled, the sudden weight of his hands on your shoulder was strangely comforting but came a as a surprise. When had he gotten so close?

Golden eyes danced between your lips and your own gaze and you felt the heat spreading across your cheeks. 

“We have to exchange shoes now.”

The sound of your whispered _what_  was as flat as your heartbeat the second your brain had registered his words. Had he really just asked you for your _shoes_? Was this some kind of innuendo? Why would anyone exchange shoes when meeting under a mistle--

His chuckle cut through the air clear as a crystal.

Heat rose to your face, a potent cocktail dominated by embarrassment and finished with a pinch of anger. A joke, of course. The following attempt to free yourself from his hold lasted for only a few passing seconds, before his hand once again touched your face, gently coaxing you to face him again.

“Ahh, don't look so sulky, my dear,” he mused, the upbeat notes in his voice still impossible to miss, even as his gaze softened. “All appreciation for the exotic aside, the local customs have their charm too.”

And then, gentle as a snowflake, he placed a single kiss on your lips.

“Wouldn't you agree?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "A variety of parasitic plant that is commonly found growing on the stout acacia trees of Thavnair. The inhabitants of Thavnair's capital city of Radz-at-Han have a strange custom that states if two people meet underneath a sprig of mistletoe, they must each give the other one of their shoes."
> 
> Solus is an ass, but that's fine.


	3. Asahi sas Brutus

“These aren't finished yet,” you spoke calmly before even turning to meet the eyes of the person who had just walked in on your baking spree. The squeak of the kitchen door had proven a more effective alert than any modern installation the Garlean Empire could have provided. Granted, you had told yourself to fixit for several moons now, but you made the best of it.

“Oh, but I am certain they will taste marvelous regardless,” the delighted voice of Asahi answered, steps proceeding undeterred to where you stood covered head to toe in flour and sugar.

You really should have anticipated the smell of your baking summoning him.

“Surely you have one of these delicious treats to spare for me,” he met your gaze with a smile as you turned away from the kitchen counter and towards him.

“No.”

If the answer had surprised him, he showed nothing of it.

“No?” he hummed, cheery expression unfaltering and a new twinkle of amusement dancing in his black eyes.

“Absolutely not.”

The warmth of his touch reached you before you saw the white leather of one of his gloved hands, so gentle against your right cheek.

“Not even one?” Asahi breathed against your jawline, annihilating any distance between you two with another step forward. He placed a soft kiss to your warm skin, followed by a trail of more leading him back to your lips.

He sucked on them gently, his tongue running over your bottom lip in perfect unison to the caress of his thumb along your cheek and the light pressure of his fingertips against the back of your head.

The proximity was intoxicating, his actions messing with your head-– 

“ _No_ ,” you spoke finally, albeit with your voice reduced to little more than a whisper and your eyes opening only slowly.

Asahi kept smiling, the bemusement about your struggles to resist him now very clearly entertaining him. Yet he knew when he was fighting a losing battle.

“So cruel,” he hummed with a note of defeat among the delight and placed a single kiss on your forehead before his touch left your skin.

“I shall be back later then.”

With that he turned, leaving you to your business and rounding the corner with a familiar melody on his lips. The sweet-tooth of his was a rather endearing quality only few bore to witness and you couldn't help but laugh quietly to yourself.

Until you turned around and found a batch of still unfinished cinnamon stars missing where, no doubt, his right hand had used to be.

_That little...._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My favorite little douche canoe.... (ノ*゜▽゜*)♥♥♥


	4. Omega Weapon

Of all the things you had expected to happen when you had entrusted Omega with the task to decorate the Starlight tree while you went shopping for groceries, this was not one of them. And you had thought yourself prepared for it all:

A surreal display of perfectly symmetrically arranged decorations, snapped branches and needles littering the floor, Omega knocked out by an avalanche of twinkle boxes – you had even entertained the thought of coming home to an array of small turrets installed upon the green branches.

“Well, this is rather,” you stopped mid sentence, eyebrows furrowed and taking a long and hard look at Omega's creation, “unconventional.”

An absurd level of symmetry in how the tree was decorated was definitely present – that far your predictions hadn't been off. You placed the heavy bags on the floor and approached both, machine and tree. Omega gave a low hum, followed by a bleep.

“Extensive time was spent covering the tree in 'decorations plentiful'.”

Well, technically they weren't _wrong_.

The silence that followed was only interrupted by the crackling fire in the background and a gust of wind blowing past the window.

“I.... I can see that.”

Every single ilm of the tree, from the stem to the branches, was neatly covered in wrapping paper. Even the star shaped top was wrapped up tightly in glittering foil with little chocobos dancing across the surface, and whatever spot had been deemed acceptable, had been further modified with colorful stick-on ribbons.

“You have objections,” the humanoid machine concluded, their unblinking stare focused firmly on your face.

“N-No.”

“Rise in temperature detected. You are lying.”

The blunt honesty followed by another mechanical bleep caught you off-guard. Sometimes handling them wasn't easy for someone so accustomed to society's way of diplomatic reticence.

“I wish to learn,” they continued.

This broke your heart a little. It was moments like this that you completely forgot you were standing in front of a weapon very much capable of annihilating the entire neighborhood in the blink of an eye – helpless as they were, facing your average daily interactions.

“Omega,” you started, looking for the best way to bring your thoughts across. “I can see you took great care in decorating the starlight tree, but this paper and the ribbons.... Aren't conventionally used for wrapping up trees.”

Had it been a living person standing in front of you, you imagined they would have blinked their eyes or tilted their head. As it was, Omega continued to stand completely still, analyzing your words.

“All of this.... is technically only used to put on gifts.”

Another moment passed.

“Acknowledged.”

With that and another beep, Omega pressed a golden stick-on ribbon to your forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because the best gift is a person to cherish ♥


	5. Varis zos Galvus

Few stars shone down upon you that night, most of them obscured not by the presence of clouds, but drowned in the sea of light reflected off the ice glistering all around you. What remained of the colorful northern lights was but a a distant glimmer dancing across the darkness.

The velveteen weave of Varis' winter coat brushed against the skin of your neck pleasantly, his arm around your shoulder a comforting weight abd the snow beneath your feet gave a satisfying crunch with every step you took, even if you weren't sure whey they lead you.

It didn't matter.

This was your moment, short as it may be. Just the two of you.

Any inquiries which had been directed at him before had been cut short, any requests silenced with the brute force of a single glare. If His Radiance desired to be left alone, he would be – though it was a luxury he only seldom could afford to indulge in.

Faintly, and only when the caress of the icy wind swept over you cheeks, did it carry remainders of cheerful chatter to your ears – of excited shouts over pints of warm drinks and the memory of a distant bell tolling.

How far _had_ you been walking?

A look around gave away only little. Conifers heavy with snow, their branches bending beneath the weight and the occasional distant cracking of some who yielded. Cawing ravens blurred into the darkness where it still held reign over the icy landscape and amidst the treetops nearest, a rustle sent a delicate veil of pulverized snow descending down upon you.

The silence broke with a sneeze.

“We should return.” Varis' voice rang clear, words heavy with his accent and perhaps even an expertly hidden pinch of melancholy. “I won't have you getting sick on my account.”

Turning your head upwards you looked at the man beside you, his silver hair sprinkled with tiny frozen crystals. His golden eyes remained on you briefly, before he focused on the road ahead, a gentle nudge guiding you into the right direction.

“Oh, I wouldn't dare missing the annual family dinner over a common cold,” you answered impishly, the sudden howling of the wind nearly whisking away your words before they were able to reach Varis.

Another sneeze shook your body. Varis glanced down at you once again, pulling you a little closer and matching his gait with yours.

“It wouldn't be one without you there,” he spoke, his words as warm as the distant light of crackling fire peeking through the trees ahead.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This man is _difficult_ to work with, but oh my god did I try.


	6. Nael van Darnus

The blank stare she gave you truly was of a quality unmatched. Nael's lips were pressed to a flat line, hands spread on the table before her and various spots on her face covered with bits of glitter from where she had rubbed her temples or touched her skin otherwise.

What rested between her hands could only be described as a full blown disaster.

Between the wrapping paper torn in places and sticking from all ends and the sparkling dust of unknown origin leaking from a newly surfaced hole in the box, it was the noise of its contents sounding _suspiciously broken_ upon giving it a light shake, which worried you the most.

At least you had to give her credit for the expertly tied knot on the ribbon – it wasn't exactly _pretty_ , but there was no doubt no one would be able to pry that thing open _ever_ again.

“You said this would be _simple_ ,” she drawled, accompanied by a twitch of her eyebrows as she folded her arms in front of her chest with an unnecessarily wide, sweeping motion-- was that a strip of tape behind her left ear?

“You said this would be _fun_.”

“To be fair,” you started, snagging the clear foil from her hair, “I didn't exactly expect a former medic to have the fine motor skills of a toddler.” And the attitude of one to boot, judging the displeased pout on her face. “Who in their wildest dreams would have imagined all it took to take out the Legatus of the VIIth,” you continued, turning the _present_ in your hands in an attempt to stop the ceaseless flow of glitter, “was a roll of wrapping paper and a tube of glue.”

For a moment you thought she took the bait, her delicate nose scrunched up and the furrowing of her eyebrows all the visual cues you needed to know you had riled her up further. Her dark lips quivered, a clear indicator for her racing mind – when you had made a hobby to play with fire like that you didn't recall.

And then, with a loud groan, she threw herself back in her chair – half lounging, half sliding off – and draped one of her arms over her eyes, followed by an unnecessarily long whine.

“Ludicrous! I could just have them _ordered_ wrapped,” Nael's vocal opposition reached you only muffled by her own arm as she let it slide down her face. Of course, admitting defeat was never an option for her. How she managed to talk herself out of it like this every single time was a puzzle you had yet to solve.

“It would almost seem that's what you summoned me here for.”

“Oh no, my dear, you aren't doing this for fear of your life,” she spoke, the enthusiasm about her reign of terror over the VIIth a bit misplaced in your opinion. “ _You_ are doing this from the deepest appreciation of your heart – that's not _an order_.”

The melodic shift in her voice was all you needed to know, yet the glance up from the box in your hands and back at her confirmed the smug grin spread across her face. The self-indulgent look to follow served as Nael's own brand of the ice bucket challenge, sending shivers up your spine with ease.

“It's a _favor_ from yours truly. Because _you love me so_ ,” the last words she dragged out for emphasis.

Now it was your turn to stare at her blankly. At least for a moment - your composure crumbled all too quickly once she added a wink for good measure and your cheeks lit up in a faint shade of red.

_Damn her._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for staying with me and to all the kind people who left comments on anything I wrote, it means a lot to me. I hope I made some people happy with these. You are valid for appreciating who you do, even if not many others do. ♥


End file.
